The Other Side
by BayWest
Summary: What if Castle didn't open the door in Always? Time jump after Chapter 1.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This came to me while watching Always. What if he didn't open the door? After this chapter, we jump ahead in time.

* * *

As she listens closely she is almost positive she can hear his feet shuffling on the other side of the thick door. No doubt looking through the peephole at her.

She raps her knuckles softly on the wood again, this time leaning her weight against it to listen for movement.

"Castle. Please...please open the door..."

She softly pleads for him. Whispering, as water drips against her face from her wet hair. She presses her ear closer to the wood, running her fingers along the grain and willing him to swing the door open with all of her energy.

Silence.

Maybe she was mistaken. Maybe he abandoned his post-graduation plans after their argument and instead went out out on the town. Or caught a flight to Las Vegas and took up with another flight attendant. Maybe Meredith is back in town for Alexis and they are busy. Doing things.

She clenches her eyes shut to stop the running commentary in her head. Those are ridiculous thoughts and likely not the case at all.

She knows Castle. He's home and he's brooding over their argument, playing it over and over in his head. That's what he does.

She knocks again, louder this time. Pounding 3 solid times in a row.

"Castle. Please open the door."

She raises her voice, hearing it crack with emotion she didn't even realize was present and stares at the door handle but it doesn't move.

3 hours ago she was hanging off the side of a building, staring at her imminent death and now she's staring at this stupid door, convincing herself that unless it opens she has no future.

After burning a hole through the door with concentration, she gives up, leaning against the wall and sliding down it and onto the floor. She can't decide if the water running down her face is rain water or tears but she's too disheartened to reach up and find out.

A thin ray of light splays out from underneath the door meaning his lights are on.

He must be home.

He's home and he's ignoring her.

She contemplates kicking it down but even in her panicked state that seems crazy.

She could probably talk Ramone the doorman into giving her a spare key. He knows she's...was...a detective and she could convince him that she needs into the loft.

Before resorting to breaking into the loft, she settles on a quick text message, laying out her intentions...her promise.

"I will wait for you to open the door. Because you waited for me."

She will out-stubborn him if needed.

And if that means she has to sit against this wall, staring at the dark mahogany wood for the next week, then that's what she will do.

* * *

He stares at the text message lighting up his screen.

He immediately feels a mix of guilt and excitement. Those words. She would wait for him. Just the idea takes his breath away and sets his heart thumping loudly.

He hates himself for having such a visceral reaction to her. So quickly opening himself back up to her with a single text message.

He stares at the back of his door, picturing her standing there, fingers dancing over the cool wood as she whispers against it. Her lithe frame leaning, hair spilling over her shoulders. Those eyes. Those ridiculous brown/green eyes that cut into him every single time.

He takes a step closer, his eyes fixated on the door handle. He feels like he is in a movie, hearing both the angel and devil on his shoulders arguing over reasons to let her in and keep her out.

"Please Rick."

Her soft voice carries through the door crack and stops him in his tracks. He can see the shadow of her feet thanks to the hallway lighting.

His hands are shaking as he uses all of his willpower not to open the door.

He can't give in. He is too hurt. Too damaged by her to let her have another pass at his heart.

How many rounds could they possibly go before she destroys him permanently? One more disappointment. One more almost-moment. And he wouldn't survive it.

If he opens that door he could write the ending in his mind. Because he's already lived it a dozen times.

She will rely on him to get her out of the latest jam. No doubt something to do with her mother's case. He is absolutely positive she went running straight into the case the minute he walked out of her apartment.

She will draw him back in with her tears and emotion, something he can't resist, and then once things are back to normal, once the crisis has passed, she will put the wall back up and push him away.

Then he would, once again, sit on the outskirts, holding out hope that she will finally come around.

But she never would come around, because he laid his heart out on the table just hours ago and she still chose her mother's case

The part of him that wants to open the door is the part that foolishly imagines he will pull it open and she will fling herself at him, kissing him wildly, grabbing his body and pulling it against her, promising him that she loves him and wants him and needs him.

But that will never happen. And he knows it.

He turns away from the door, knowing if he stares at it for too long that temptation will win over.

He picks out a bottle of his strongest whiskey from the liquor cabinet and pours himself a glass, downing the first gulp quickly and refilling the dark liquid.

He settles into the couch, running his finger around the rim of the glass.

He needs the liquid courage to resist the sound of her knuckles tapping again and her voice cracking as she asks him to please open up.

If she sits out there for a month, he will just sit inside his apartment for a month and a day.

As he sips the bitter liquid he promises himself that no matter what, he will not open the door.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Sorry I said time jump after Chapter 1 but it's after Chapter 2. More to wrap up in "present day". Keep in mind that if Castle didn't open the door, he wouldn't know anything beyond the conversation at Beckett's apartment when he asked her to stop and she said to bring her the war. He said he was done. That was it. Quite frankly I think almost any other showrunner would have played it with Beckett knocking, Castle ignoring it and extending the angst another season. God bless Marlowe!

* * *

"Detective Beckett?"

Her eyes crack open and she immediately feels the pain radiate from her neck. It takes her a moment to realize where she is, crouched on the floor of Castle's hallway, her head leaning awkwardly against the wall.

Alexis stares at her blankly, setting down her overnight bag at Kate's feet.

"Are you ok?"

Kate quickly shuffles to her feet, wincing at the soreness that has set into her body after a night of sleeping on the floor. And undoubtedly from the rooftop battle of yesterday.

She dusts off her stiff jeans, still damp from the rain. And shakes out her hair, wondering just how wild it must look.

"Oh...um...yea. I was just...waiting for your dad..."

Alexis nods, looking away from her, biting her lip.

"Is...is he out of town?"

She hates even asking the girl. Putting her in the middle of...this standoff. But she has to know.

By midnight she convinced herself that there was no way he was home because her Castle would never let her sleep in the hallway outside of his loft. No matter how angry he was.

"He's...he's home but...he said not to let you in...I'm really sorry..."

As the girls words sink in, they feel worse than the bruises covering her body. They sting as she digests their meaning. He has been inside the entire time. Listening to her knock. Plead. Beg. And he didn't answer.

"I'm...i'm sorry Detective Beckett..."

Alexis speaks softly, shuffling awkwardly towards the door, picking her bag back up and throwing it over her shoulder.

"I'm sure he'll get over it...you know how he can be..."

She offers up a weak smile before slipping into the door, barely opening it enough to fit through.

Kate can't even finds words so she nods and runs her hands over her face, pressing them into her eyes to hold back the hot sting of tears.

She wants to scream at the door, bang it to pieces. Tell Castle that the only reason she is out here is because she's madly in love with him, so much that she's walked away from every defining feature of her life; her job, her mother's case, the obsession for justice that has driven her for the past 10 years.

All for him.

But instead she just stands silently, wondering what to do next.

He will have to leave sometime. He can't hole up in his loft forever.

So she sits back down, convincing herself with the morning light will come clarity and a crack open of the door.

* * *

"Dad...she's just sitting out there..."

Alexis hands him a glass of water and he rubs the sleep from his eyes. The haze of liquor weighing down his head. He has no idea how early it is but the sun is barely peeking through the windows.

"I thought you weren't coming home until noon..."

Alexis sighs and flops into the chair next to the couch.

"When I got your text not to let Detective Beckett into the apartment I worried something was wrong..besides there was nowhere left to sleep at Gaby's so I ended up curled on a kitchen chair and it was ridiculously uncomfortable."

He can't shake the uncomfortable pit in his stomach at the idea of Kate sleeping in his hallway last night. All because he wouldn't open the door.

"Dad...what's going on with Detective Beckett, did you guys fight?"

He has to resist the urge to spill his guts to his 18 year old daughter. He desperately wants to recap everything from the past 24 hours but they aren't her burdens to carry.

"We...had a falling out...I just think it's best right now if we don't see one another..."

Alexis looks at him like his explanation is as ridiculous as it sounds to him.

"Look Dad, I know you guys deal with some pretty serious stuff but she's your partner...your friend...even when I'm furious with my friends, I would never let them sleep in the hallway, soaking wet..."

Soaking wet? It was raining last night but why would she be wet?

"What do you mean wet?"

Alexis shrugs, not realizing the detail was significant.

"It looked like she jumped in a pool last night...her jeans still looked wet..."

His mind races with possibilities. Was she pushed in the river? Had to escape out into the rain?

No. He won't let himself get sucked back in. He can't.

He stood in front of her and begged for her to pick him. And she didn't.

So this time, he isn't going to pick her. No matter how much it rips through his chest to know that she is sitting out in the hallway. With a story to tell.

He's not going to let it be enough this time. He wants more than the story. The dramatics. He wants her.

It's all enough to bring him to the brink of nausea. He forgot what it felt like to have a broken heart. A truly pummeled, destroyed, shattered heart, that is beyond repair.

And she did this to him.

"Can I at least give her a blanket?..."

Alexis stands up from the chair, a wool throw in her hand. He shrugs, not really seeing the harm in it. She'll give up eventually. As soon as Espo or Ryan calls with another lead, she'll be gone and won't need him any longer.

He hears Alexis open the door and close it quickly. She tosses the throw back onto the couch and starts to head upstairs.

"She's gone."


	3. Chapter 3

**2 Years Later**

"Can you grab the red wine?...I'll get the steak...the sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can get home..."

She feels his soft lips graze close to her ear, sending the best kinds of shivers down her spine. His broad fingers press into the side of her hip with a squeeze before she peels herself away from him, reluctantly, and heads to the wine aisle.

She shoots him back a smile, just to tease. He laughs and runs his hand through his shorter hair, he cut most of it off a few months ago because he felt like it was too long for "an old guy".

She spent a week promising him he wasn't old and that she really liked the short look. Which is true but sometimes she misses running her fingers through the longer hair. Messing with the shorter pieces by his ears.

Things are good. Better than good even.

She rarely lets her mind marinate with the good thoughts because she feels like she's jinxing things but sometimes, like tonight, she can't help it.

From where they came from...things are good.

They are at a corner market, doing the most usual tasks, picking up groceries and wine for dinner, nothing fancy. But it's comfortable.

She lazily draws her fingers across a few wine labels, not putting much thought into which one she'll pick. She hates to admit she usually just picks based on label and he always calls her out for it.

She hovers over a bright orange label with a black panther jumping, she likes the colors. But her eye catches on a yellow label with watercolor butterflies painted on it. She reaches up for it, knowing he'll immediately laugh at the random wine choice. A 2007 cab from Italy? Sounds fine.

"Oh i'm so sorry..."

She quickly grabs the bottle cradling it to the nook of her arm to keep it from falling as a strong body bumps into her.

She is just glad she isn't wearing a bottle of red and she shoots a carefree smile to the man beside her.

"No harm done..."

She barely gets the words out before she feels the breath catch in her chest. It hurts. The sting that fills her lungs and chest, the hot burn spreads up her torso, across her neck and face, settling behind her eyes.

Brooklyn.

A full 45 minutes away from Tribeca.

Not even Williamsburg. They are in a small area on the edge of Park Slope. A residential corner market only frequented by those who live in the area.

22.1 million people stretched across 5 boroughs and they are both here. Now.

"Kate..."

His blue-ish grey eyes are locked into her, his voice so soft and quiet. He looks good. Slightly tan, thinner than the last time she saw him, youthful even.

She swallows hard, unsure of exactly what to say or do. Suddenly aware of every part of her body and how awkward she is standing, the way she is studying his face, her hands wrapped tightly around the wine bottle.

He holds his own bottle, a Coppola wine, she knows it's one of his favorites and as a result always avoids that section when picking her own bottle because the minute she sees the label it becomes a mental battle to shove those memories back into the lock box of her mind. Swallow them down. Forget them the best she can. Until some other smell or memory or random moment causes them to flood back.

He has a grocery basket on his arm filled with a few random items, bread and fruit of some kind, a small bouquet of yellow flowers and a pint of strawberry ice cream.

Speak Kate. Say anything. Something.

"Hi..."

She hates how weak her voice sounds. Cracking and awkward.

The way he's staring at her, she imagines he must be feeling the same burning tension in his own stomach.

"I can't believe...wow..."

His broken statement confirms her prediction.

"You look great.."

He completes his thought and she feels herself smile at his compliment but pulls back as she remembers. Remembers how it ended. Remembers the pain. How long it's been since she's heard his voice.

They stand staring, wordless, for what feels like hours. Neither of them breaking the silence or looking directly at one another. She stares at the ground, the weird stain on the tile, the purple wine bottle just off to the side of her view.

Her heart is pounding so loudly she's certain he can hear it from where he stands across from her.

She wants to push him, shove him into the row of wine and scream at him.

2 years. 3 months. 2 weeks. 6 days.

That's how long it's been and she hates that he means...meant...so much to her that she knows exactly how long it's been.

"What brings you to Park Slope?"

He finally speaks again, his brow furrowed.

"...I live here."

I moved here 2 years ago. To ensure I'd never run into you. She wants to tell him that because it's true, that's the rest of the story.

He nods.

"Espo said you moved but...I didn't...how's the US Marshal's..that's where you are now right?"

She makes a mental note to absolutely pummel Esposito next time she sees him for telling him anything at all about her life. He promised he wouldn't.

"I need to...I should go..."

She chokes on the emotion boiling up in her chest. She can't stand here and deny it any longer.

Her face is practically burning off with emotion, tears stinging behind her eyes as she blinks back.

She changed everything about her life to avoid this moment from ever happening. She moved to a Brooklyn suburb, changed her cell number and email, buried her contact information so it would be harder to track her down.

"Kate.."

He pleads softly, his voice barely a whisper. She looks up and catches his eyes for the first time, soft blue, covered by a haze of shock and emotion. His face is clenched and uncomfortable, making the scar above his eye even more noticeable than usual.

That stupid face. The one she looked at for so many hours. Dreamed about. Lusted over. Now it's blank, scared even, breathing steady and deep as it stares at her and takes away every single inch of progress she's made with a single glance.

"Are you distracted by all the labels..."

As if things could get any worse in this moment she hears the voice sing song around the corner and stop behind her, cutting off quickly.

She doesn't look up, concentrating on the blue butterfly dancing across the wine label in her hand. It's soft blue wings look like they're actually moving.

"Castle..."

She hears him make the obvious statement from behind her, resting his hand on her shoulder protectively, squeezing his fingers into her exposed skin.

She dreads the next words spoken and clenches her eyes shut, hoping to be swallowed whole into the floor.

"Josh."

* * *

Josh Davidson? Seriously.

Of all men.

Of all men to walk up and lay claim to Kate Beckett after he sees her for the first time in 2 years...it's Josh.

If he was a fighting man he would have taken a swing at his smug face. His admittingly really nice looking smug face.

Although he looked older than he remembered. And he's pretty sure he saw grey hairs at the temples.

But Kate. Kate looked...perfect. As tall and thin as ever, her hair maybe a little shorter and blonder but...beautiful.

Happy.

Which possibly killed him even more than Josh being there with her.

Every few months, after too many drinks, Espo would let a little detail here and there slip. Always promising Castle that she was safe but that she had moved out of Manhattan, was working for the US Marshal's, walked away from her mom's case...but never a word about Josh. Probably because he knew that piece would destroy him. No matter how brave a front he put up.

"Dad do you want more pasta?"

Castle glances up from the nearly empty wine glass at Alexis, who is standing at the small kitchen island and holding up a bowl in his direction.

He shakes his head silently and goes back to swirling the wine around his glass.

"Well what did she say? How did you end it?"

Alexis sits back down at the small cafe table, leaning close to him.

"She...they...just said bye quickly and walked out the door...I just kind of stood there..."

He takes a swig of the remainder of the wine and wishes it would do a better job at erasing the last 2 hours from his life.

"That's so weird, I go to that market all the time...you would think i'd see her if she lives around here."

Alexis transferred to NYU her sophomore year, wanting a more hands on learning experience than Columbia could offer. He was insanely proud of her for finally shedding her Type-A tendencies in favor of enjoying life and her college years.

He was genuinely starting to worry that she wasn't possibly his kid with how uptight she was at all times.

In celebration of her being mildly irresponsible he bought her a small brownstone in Park Slope, per her request, so she could still study in quiet and hang out with her friends who lived in the same area.

He's been to this apartment at least fifty times since she's moved in, stopping at all of the shops along the way, never realizing that Kate was within walking distance of him the entire time.

"It's been 2 years Dad...I mean you've moved on, you're happy right?"

He nods and forces a smile.

"Of course...I'm...yes, I'm happy but it was just...unexpected to see her is all..."

Alexis refills his glass and her own, throwing another piece of garlic bread on his still nearly full plate. He can't even think about eating something right now.

"Don't dwell on this...you finally are back to your old self...don't spiral because you ran into Detective Beckett and her boyfriend!"

Boyfriend. Ugh. Just hearing Alexis say it is like a punch in the gut all over again.

He wants to turn back time, pull the door open and let her in. He spent almost 18 months hating himself until finally realizing there's nothing left to be done.

"Dad...promise me you're not going to start stalking my neighborhood looking for her again...please?"

He swallows down the dark red liquid and grins.

"Don't worry about me Alexis, I'll be fine."

Too bad he doesn't believe it.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Wow! 1, thanks for all the follows and feedback, VERY cool of you. 2, doods this is angst...and romance. It's a chapter story and while I don't know how long it'll go, I can't resolve things ASAP or there wouldn't be a story. Sorry to all you Josh haters out there...the truth is, when you're hurt and rebounding and find someone who gives you what the other person couldn't/wouldn't/didn't, sometimes you just jump into it. This isn't a story where they sat idly by pining for one another. An important point to make as we head into this chapter too.

* * *

"Kate the green beans are burning..."

Josh slides beside her and nods towards the pan with the sizzling green beans. She shakes her frozen thoughts and snaps back to reality, pushes the pile of vegetables around, watching their color turn to a dark emerald, small brown spots appearing as the heat takes over.

"Are you ok?"

He's not going to let this go.

She should have assumed he wouldn't when he brought it up twice on the 2 block walk home from the market. And the next morning. And that evening. But she's done her best to try and shut him down. Tell him it was awkward encounter but no big deal.

"Josh...I'm fine...is the chicken done?"

Not that she plans to eat. She's downright nauseated.

God he looked good. He looked so...familiar. She thought she remembered every little thing about him but the way his voice sounded, the look in his eyes, it was so different than she would recall late at night, when she couldn't sleep and let her mind go there.

She can't let herself go back. It took her months...years even...to pull herself back out of that heartbreak and move on.

Maybe she isn't fully out of it but she's distanced enough that she is happy again. A different happy. But it's enough.

Josh is good for her. He's sweet and committed and uncomplicated. He loves her. And that's all she needs.

"Kate...I want to believe that...I do...but.."

She turns off the burner and faces him, running her hands up his grey tshirt, feeling his solid chest beneath it, cutting off his words with her fingertips, grazing over his mouth and back down his thin neck, feeling him swallow under the pads of her fingers.

She sees it in his eyes, that same uncertainty that was there for so many months after they reconnected. As she was pulling herself out of the haze of lost love, wrapping herself up into him as a distraction, he was waiting with baited breath for her to leave him again.

It took her endless conversations to convince him that she wasn't going anywhere. To convince herself even.

And now he's looking at her the same way, his dark brooding eyes shifting downward, the corner of his mouth tweaked up in contemplation, his shoulders slumped.

She circles his neck and brings her mouth to his, pressing softly against the familiar thin lips. She tries so hard...so hard to lose herself in the kiss.

"Josh...It was just a weird encounter...I'm here...with you...and I'm not going anywhere..."

And then she kisses again. Letting the green beans wilt and the chicken go cold. Because she has to prove to both him and her, that she believes her own words.

++++++++++++

"I am your BIGGEST fan...I just love Frozen Heat...I wish you would write another one..."

He smiles up at the grinning lady, scribbles his name across the page and thanks her. His hand is starting to cramp and he shakes it out.

He grabs the next book and the lady points to the page she wants him to sign...Heat Rises page 105.

"I just love that scene...it's so hot..."

She giggles, tossing her hair dramatically in front of him in some flirtatious movement that he couldn't care less about.

He ignores her request and flips back to the title page and scrawls his name.

"Thanks for coming out..."

He's usually better at this, engaging with his fans, making small talk. He's more than used to it by now and even though it's exhausting, he can always muster up a cheesy grin and some quick one liners.

But this time he's struggling.

So many of them ask him to sign the dedication pages.

Over and over he sees his words to her.

"To the extraordinary KB..."

"To the real Nikki Heat..."

But it's the Frozen Heat dedication that hurts the most. He had to submit it the same day as their argument. The last time he would see her.

He pulled from his own words but used them in hope that they would reconcile. He never thought that those words would truly be the last ones shared between them and carry such a sharp memory.

When it is placed in front of him, he traces the words lightly with his fingers.

"To all the remarkable, maddening, challenging, frustrating people who inspire us to do great things."

Usually he would just sign quickly, moving along to the next fan in line. But now that she's so fresh in his mind, he sees her face with every curve of every letter. Staring back him. Those solemn green eyes.

He feels tears burn near the surface and he blinks them back.

Geesh get a grip Rick.

He rubs his hand over his face and forces a smile, flicking his wrist over the cover of the book instead, handing it back to the squealing girl.

"Do you need a break?"

Paula leans over his shoulder, whispering to him, clearly noticing he's something is wrong. He nods and she hustles into Paula mode, handing him water, announcing he's taking a quick break to the crowd and ushering him out from behind the table.

He hears the moans and groans of the crowd as he disappears behind the curtain. He hates disappointing fans, especially ones that have stood in line for hours just to see him, but he needs a second.

Just a moment to gather himself back up.

It shouldn't be this hard.

He's moved on. He's restarted his life, without her and he's settled.

Running into her one time...one silly time...it shouldn't have his stomach flipping cartwheels every time he repeats it in his mind.

"What the hell is going on out there Rick...are you...crying?..."

Paula's thick Jersey accent is like nails on a chalkboard. He's not in the mood for her. Or anything.

"What?...No...I'm...tired...I don't know..."

"Well be tired later...you're not writing so in order to keep you relevant we need to keep you visible..."

Not writing. As he if needs reminded of the fact that his only talent is completely dried up for the time being. Ok...it's been dried up for...well...two years.

"I don't need reminded of that fact Paula...I just...I need a second OK..."

She huffs, sorting through her papers, mumbling under her breath about him being difficult.

She literally gives him a second before turning and waving his contract at him, pointing dramatically like he's a school kid that needs reminded of instructions.

"All I'm gonna say Rick is that you heard Gina in the meeting...Black Pawn isn't going to put up with this much longer and they WILL sue you if you don't start publishing like your contract states... but at least if we keep sales up for your old work, it will buy us some damn time..."

He is writing. It's just not any good.

He can't write Nikki...for obvious reasons. He tried to bring Storm back, even Clara Strike...he thought about breaking Rook off on his own...he has dozens of chapters of other random lead characters he's created but they all suck.

But lately..not that he's writing Nikki Heat quality stuff but...it's not horrible. It's workable. It's something he could at least submit to keep from being sued, which his lawyers...and Paula...keep reminding him is inevitable because he's over 2 years behind in his contract obligations.

And now this. This stupid encounter has rocked his perfectly reconstructed foundation and frankly he's pissed about it.

He's come too far.

She's not a part of his life anymore.

He's done dwelling on it.

He's shoving it out of his head. Immediately.

Just another hour. A few hundred more books and he's done.

He bounces on his toes, cracking his knuckles and twisting his neck around for some relief.

Yep, he's got this. He's focused. He can crank this out.

"Hey..."

He hears the soft voice approach from behind him and he feels a mix of relief and at the same time his stomach clenches but he shoves that sensation into the back of his mind.

"I thought you might need some coffee..."

He reaches out and grabs the warm cup with a smile, actually incredibly grateful for the caffeine boost.

"I was in the neighborhood and..."

She starts to defend herself for being there. Her voice soft. Eyes gazed downward. A small smile on her lips.

He can do this. He can make this work.

He steps forward, wrapping her tiny frame in his arms, pushing a kiss to her forehead.

"Don't be silly Lisa...I love that you showed up..."

Yep, he's got this.


	5. Chapter 5

72 pages.

There's nothing great about any of it. He feels like it's on par with his first works, a cheesy murder mystery with some gruesome scenes and a few twists and turns. But it's 72 pages, which is more than he's had on paper in years so he'll take it.

He hits save, admiring the words filling the white word document. It doesn't jump off the page at him like Nikki did...calling him further into the story, taunting him if he didn't write more and more and more until he would have a complete book in days.

These 72 pages have taken months. But it's a quarter of the book, which is what Gina demanded and he's on time with her latest deadline.

He leans back in the leather chair, cracking his knuckles high above his head, yawning. The bright morning sun is rising, bearing down through his window.

He's delirious with exhaustion, his eyes burning with sleep. He was at 40 pages yesterday and has been wide awake, pounding coffee and Red Bull, trying to push towards 75. But now he's so hyped up on pride and caffeine that he can't possibly sleep yet.

So he throws his feet on the desk and his hands behind his head and lets his mind go where it always does. No matter how hard he tries, it drifts right back...

To her.

Park Slope?

He grabs his laptop and clicks around, opening up Google and typing in every variation of Katherine Beckett Park Slope that he can think of and tries Josh too...and gets nowhere. No record of a house purchased, no phone listed, no voter registration, nothing.

If he didn't see her with his own eyes, he would think she was a ghost. Totally vanished into the ether.

In the beginning, he was angry and hurt so he spent a solid month pretending he didn't care.

But then once he started hearing from Espo and Ryan that she quit the precinct and was moving, he tossed and turned with indecision. By the time he considered looking for her, she was untraceable and Ryan and Espo told him to back off.

So he did.

In hindsight, he has regrets...of course he has regrets. God he loved her so much and he was so broken over her. He did the best he could.

And now?

Now he's fine.

He almost laughs at the thought. Fine?

It's all relative. Two years ago the state he is in now would be considered anything but fine...he can't write, he has no inspiration, he's in a perfectly normal, lovely relationship with a perfectly normal, lovely woman...who he avoids calling most days of the week.

But compared to then? When he didn't get out of bed. When he cried during every single morning shower.

He's doing fine.

So typing in Katherine Beckett Park Slope is a recipe for disaster and he knows it.

But he keeps trying.

How could there be no record. No real estate transaction. Unless she's renting.

But when he signed for Alexis' apartments in the past...

When HE signed.

He clears out the search and replaces Kate's name with James Beckett Park Slope.

439 5th St.

Before he can convince himself this is the worst possible idea he's ever had, he's grabbing his jacket and he's out the door.

* * *

"Kate! Slow down!"

She's breathing hard and heavy, sweat dripping down her face and back. She slows her legs to a jog and catches her breath, waiting for Josh to catch up.

He is panting by the time he catches her, his chest rising and falling dramatically, sweat rolling down his head.

"Geesh Kate, 10 miles at an 8 minute pace? What happened to going for an easy run and enjoying the weather?"

She shoots him a smile and walks ahead, shaking her legs out.

She didn't want an easy run. Not one where her mind could wander. She wanted to push herself to the point of pain and exhaustion, where the only thing she could think about was survival. She wanted be too tired to think of anything else.

It's the same reason she's been jumping him at every possible second. And throwing herself into house renovations.

If she occupied, she isn't thinking.

As her legs moved faster, she was able to let everything else melt away. He, melt away.

"You're going to give me a heart attack..."

Josh falls behind even her walking pace and jogs a few steps to reach her side again and she slows to a leisurely stroll.

The autumn sun is beating down through the trees of the park, casting beautiful shadows along their path. It's a perfect morning. Bright, crisp. The wind blowing and families out enjoying the last bits of mild weather.

Josh comments on the houses they pass, pointing out features he likes. She tries to commit and invest in the conversation.

"I really like that...one with the dark trim..."

She points out a brownstone and Josh nods.

"I like that too...want me to call the painter this weekend?...It's a big investment but we want to make the place our own right?"

She shoves past all the hesitation that is making itself known in her gut and slips her sweaty palm into his, linking their fingers and pulling him closer to her side.

"Right."

Against better judgement she settles into his warm body and lets her mind wander to their future.

It could be nice. Quiet. Normal.

So painfully normal it's almost nauseating.

Maybe they would be pushing a baby stroller, chatting about holiday plans, school applications, Josh's work schedule and who could take the baby to music class.

It could work just fine. He could make her happy.

"Hey..where did you go..."

He nudges her shoulder and breaks her train of thoughts, grinning at her with that stupid gorgeous face of his.

Is it possible to be too perfect? Is that something she really has a right to complain about?

"I was thinking of us..."

She almost feels guilty at how scared he looks at her admission.

"Good us or bad us?"

She grins, giving him a little more of herself than she usually allows.

"Good us."

This is what normal people do right? Stroll in parks with their lovers, holding hands, smiling and laughing, talking about their future?

It feels completely achievable.

And she's actually pretty proud for letting herself go there.

"I have to head up to clinic for a minute and sign some charts...want to come?"

Josh nods towards the busier part of town, through the other end of the park, away from their brownstone.

She shakes her head, leaning in and kissing him softly.

"I'm going to go home and shower, make coffee...will you pick up milk on the way home?"

He nods, leaning in and kissing her again before turning off the sidewalk. She watches him jog away, his tall, strong body cutting a path through the crowd.

A baby with Josh?

A house with dark trim with Josh?

A long, long, long, future with Josh?

She lets herself build up all the possibilities that she's denied for so long.

And then she turns her corner, onto her street and the moment she sees him walking towards her, everything she built up comes instantly crumbling back down.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thanks for your patience! My laptop blew up and I had to save up for a new one. Ugh. But I'm back up and running!

* * *

He didn't think out his plan. He just sorta hopped on the subway and nervous energy took over. He has absolutely no plan.

Which is a problem, considering Kate Beckett is frozen on the sidewalk, four feet in front of him.

He tries to fake surprise but he was slowly strolling when she caught his eye, trying to figure out which brownstone was 439.

He is fairly certain he looks...determined. Focused. Like he's hunting someone down. Her.

She hasn't moved since he's walked toward her, just looking at him. Her hair is pulled back tightly from her face, she's wearing a long sleeve dry fit tee and running shorts. Sweat covering her forehead.

She looks at him sheepishly, shuffling her sneakers around on the sidewalk.

He can't really pinpoint the feeling that is taking over his gut. It's not nerves. It's a little bit of panic. But mostly...it's anger.

Anger? He looks at her and just feels...angry.

She raises her eyebrows at him and purses her lips in question, that familiar "And what do you have to say for yourself" glare that she would shoot him all the time in the middle of a case.

"I...Alexis lives...she's right around the corner..."

It's true. Sort of. She's three blocks over and one up. But it's the best he can pull out on short notice.

He really didn't intend to see her. He just needed to see her new piece of the universe. He wanted to see what it all looked like and why it was appealing and where she spends her time.

Not in a stalkerish way.

If he sees it for himself, her new world, then he can close up that door in his mind and lock the key. This was his attempt at closure.

And now she's here, in front of him. Conjuring up all these feelings.

And it pisses him off.

"So Alexis moved from Columbia?"

She is much friendlier to him than she was at the Market. Maybe not as surprised seeing him a second time, a little more relaxed. Almost relieved?

"Yea she transferred to NYU."

He forces himself to hold back information. He wants to tell her why she transferred and all about her new life and how much she loves it and how he comes this way once a week for dinner together and they share a bottle of wine and laugh like adults because Alexis is an adult now.

But he doesn't. He won't give her anymore than she deserves.

She offers a small smile in return and pushes the wisps of hair from her face.

"Two times in a month? It's...nice seeing you Castle.."

He almost misses the soft compliment, her voice barely above a whisper but the smirk confirms what he thinks he heard.

"Thanks."

She lets out a small laugh, it's forced and awkward but he can feel some of the tension between them melt slightly away with the concession.

"Rick.."

She doesn't finish the thought. Just states his name. Looking at him.

It shouldn't be like this. He shouldn't be 2 years behind in a book contract because of her. He shouldn't be dating an amazing woman but unable to truly commit because she isn't Kate.

He's been made out to feel like the bad guy all this time and now, standing in front of her. Facing her down. She's the one who needs to apologize.

But she doesn't. Just silently stands before him. Closed off. Typical Kate.

He's done. He can feel it in his gut. He saw what he came here to see and he's done. He's closing it up and moving on.

"Well it was nice seeing you, tell Josh I said hello?"

Ok that was a low blow but he can't help it. He needs to throw a little sour her way before walking off.

She nods and he steps around her, shoving his hands in his pockets and burning a hole through his shoes with his stare. He won't dare look back.

A million thoughts are running through his head. All of them trying to convince himself that walking away right now is the right thing to do.

They are different people, leading different lives.

Two ships passing in the night.

Maybe if they ran into one another a year ago there would be have been more reason to force a resolution.

Now the prospect of dragging up old wounds just sounds...tiring.

Hardly worth the effort.

"Castle..."

He feels his stomach clench at her voice carrying over his shoulder, the sound of her footsteps right behind him, her thin fingertips grasping onto his bicep and stopping his quick pace.

He turns to face her and she nods up at an ornate black door and shrugs.

"Do you want to come in for coffee?"

Shit.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Fuck.

Shit.

What in the hell was she thinking?

The words just slipped out, falling from her mouth as she stared at him walking away down the sidewalk in front of her house.

She couldn't let him go. She didn't want to ask him to stay but the risk seemed better than letting him walk away and her spending another however many weeks reliving the moment in her head.

If she shuts this whole thing down now, she can be done and move on.

She can barely shove the key into the lock, her hand is shaking so badly.

She can feel his presence behind her but he must be a few steps down because she can't see him lurking over her shoulder like he used to do so often when he'd follow her to crime scenes, so anxious to get inside he would practically step on her heels.

She finally shimmies open the door and motions for him to walk in first, his body grazing past her and she holds her breath the entire time. Not allowing herself to look at him closely or inhale his familiar scent or catch a glimpse of his familiar blue eyes.

He stands in the entry way and obviously looks around, taking in the surroundings.

She feels self conscious of it, mostly because it's in the middle of renovation, the living room sealed off as the floors are being resurfaced and random tools scattered around.

She picks up Josh's tennis shoes and tosses them under a bench in the foyer, along with a drill and hammer.

She wishes there was no evidence of him in the open, it makes her stomach lurch for some reason. Wondering what Castle must think of all of it.

"Sorry for the mess...we're...renovating and it's taking forever...the kitchen is this way..."

She guides him straight back, past the staircase and first floor bathroom.

The kitchen is her favorite part of the house and the only thing that they want to keep as-is. It's open and airy, lots of light from an array of windows nestled in the back of the house. The cabinets are a pale grey with glass panes and the counters a worn white marble.

She nods for him to take a seat at the stools lined up at the kitchen island, and he does so quietly.

He's different. His shoulders are tense and he looks around a little at the kitchen, but mostly settles himself at the counter as she fiddles with the coffee pot and it hums to life.

She places an empty mug in front of him and tries to hide her shaking hand.

"So why Park Slope..."

His voice finally breaks the silence but it's curt. Straightforward.

"Oh...um...I don't know...it seemed far enough away but still close enough to the city..."

Far enough from you. She wants to say.

He nods, handling the empty mug.

"Alexis probably loves it huh? There's a lot of young professionals in the area..."

Alexis. A safe topic. Neutral.

"Yea, she is happy here."

If this was old them, she'd square herself off to him and ask him what his problem was. Why the attitude. The short, tense answers.

But it's new them, so she lets the answer go. Mentally willing the coffee pot to hurry up and brew.

She feels different this time. Seeing him. Being so close to him. The Market caught her off guard, it was so unexpected. But now she's spent weeks with him in her head that she almost feels reacquainted. Less shell shocked and more curious.

"Do you talk to the boys much?"

He shrugs at her question, mostly avoiding eye contact. Maybe it's because they are in her house? Her territory? Maybe he feels uncomfortable?

"Yea...a little...Espo more than Ryan...he and Jenny are so busy with the baby...Espo and I grab a beer sometimes.."

She knows the answer because Lainie always tells her when Espo meets up with him.

"Yea the baby is adorable huh? I just saw them a few weeks ago...she's getting so big..."

She watches his scanning eyes stop on a framed photo of her and Josh on the counter. It was from a family wedding several months ago. His arms wrapped around her from behind, her laughing at something his uncle said off to the side. She loves it but always thinks it makes them look so much happier than they really are.

"So Josh?"

He finally looks up at her with the question and it stings. The look on his face. Defeat.

"We..we ran into one another..."

If the story of her and Josh were 100 pages long, that's like telling him only one page. But it doesn't seem worth it to get into the rest of it. She can't tell him how she used Josh for months to help her forget him. And finally, she just got used to him being there so she let him stay.

He doesn't respond to her brief explanation as she fills his cup and hands him the cream and sugar, pouring her own cup and immediately feeling comfortable with the warm ceramic in her hands.

She watches him splash in the creamer and a dash of sugar. His usual mix hasn't changed at all. He stirs it a little before stopping. The liquid rippling a little in the cup still, from the shake of his hand.

"Kate I appreciate you inviting me in...but...I should go..."

He is looking down at his creamy brown liquid and pushes it away, standing up and adjusting his jacket.

She wants to stop him. It's awkward and they have nothing to talk about. She doesn't know why but she wants him to stay. Just, stay.

"Castle...just...it's one cup...I won't bite..."

She can hear the desperation in her own voice. The ridiculous sound of wanting him. Still.

Shit.

"What for Kate? So we can make pointless small talk about Alexis and Espo and Ryan? This is needless torture..."

She can see the anger in his eyes. It reminds her so much of that day at her old loft. His begging and pleading. His frustration. His hooded eyes glazed over with unbroken tears.

This time his voice isn't angry or desperate. Just...bitter.

"There are things to be said..."

He turns from the doorway of the kitchen, letting out a huff of laughter at her reasoning.

"It's been 2 and a half years Kate...there were things to be said when I tried to find you and you disappeared. There were things to be said when I looked all over this damn island and you swore everyone in your life to secrecy. But now? Now...there's nothing left to be said."

He hurls the words right at her, his glare ripping her chest wide open. She feels her breath hitch, the protest that is fighting back in her head is silent in her throat and she tries not to show him that he just pierced her armor. And it hurts.

He looks at her one final time and shakes his head before turning on his heel and walking back down her hallway. His shoes pounding loudly against the wood floor.

She sets down her coffee mug with the slam of the front door.  
_


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks for all the awesome reviews/feedback! I'm egotistical enough to admit that I love every single one of them! This is a long chapter, normally I'd post this as 2 chapters BUT since I made you all wait so long, you get a whole lot of story in one serving. Enjoy!

* * *

She's on a slippery slope.

She kissed Josh goodbye and left the house, claiming that she was having a beer with Epso.

Which is true. She is.

But the only reason she called Espo, to have a beer, is because she needs to talk about Castle.

And talking about him. Is validating this ridiculous nagging that won't go away and is keeping her up at night.

And if she validates it. She'll want to act on it.

A slippery slope.

She lets Espo ramble on about things happening at the 12th for a while, talks about procedure and a few guys who left or got promoted.

Two beers worth of shop talk.

On the third one she finally has the courage to bring it up.

"I saw Castle...Twice..."

His eyes snap up from the beer label he's peeling off his bottle.

"You what?...When?"

She sighs. Hating that she's even making this into a thing but as hard as she's tried to bury it, this curiosity of why she saw him and what it means and what he's doing with his life, she can't. So she needs to get it all out in the open and make it go away.

"We ran into one another at a market in Park Slope a little over a month ago...and then last week...he was going to Alexis' and we ran into one another...I invited him in for a coffee..."

HIs eyes are about two times their normal size, which probably describes his surprise at her confession.

"Wow...I saw him last week and he didn't mention it...are you guys ok?"

Didn't mention it? She's been losing sleep over it for weeks and he didn't even mention it to Espo?

"Um...no...we...it didn't go well..."

He nods, sips on his beer a little and she lets him stew over the information.

"I mean...what did you expect Boss?..."

The question catches her off guard.

"I...I don't know...nothing...I just...the first time I was overwhelmed but then...I just kept thinking about the past two and a half years and...the second time felt like an opportunity to clean some of it up? Glue some of the pieces back together?"

He smirks a little at her, leaning back against his bar stool and dangling his beer bottle between his thumb and index finger.

"Beckett...you guys shattered one another...there's nothing left to glue..."

He's right. They did destroy one another. She with her wall, her refusal to admit to her feelings, to let him in. And he with his inflexibility. He wanted black and white and she was grey.

"I'm different now...we're both different I'm sure...I thought maybe we could...call a truce? So I can go back to my life because otherwise...I just keep thinking of it...of him..."

She knows she sounds ridiculous. If the roles were reversed she'd probably laugh at Espo, so she appreciates him just rolling his eyes.

"Dude, you two are so far past a truce...god Kate, you changed jobs and MOVED to Park Slope to shut the guy out of your life, even though you knew he was madly in love with you...you want a guy to just, call truce on that?"

It's like he's talking in slow motion.

Each word landing in her head and hanging there.

"But...he...he didn't open the door Espo...I begged and..."

He swigs the last of his bottle and cracks it down on the bar, turning to her.

"I sat at this bar for a year and listened to him talk about how much he loved you...he doesn't talk about you anymore. And until now, you didn''t talk about him. You two are finally in a place where you can move on so I would think long and hard before you drag this back around...you're the one who wanted it like this."

She thinks he murmurs a goodbye but she can't be sure because she's hanging her head in her hands. She just sees the 20 he throws on the bar and hears his feet pass behind her chair.

_"You're the one who wanted it like this."_

It couldn't be more true. She is the one.

And now she's paying the price.

* * *

"Rick, you're 10 minutes late!"

Paula grabs his jacket sleeve before his entire body is off the elevator and drags him quickly behind her.

"They are already pissed and YOU'RE LATE!"

She is talking to him in a sharp, hushed whisper as they rush down the main hallway of Black Pawn. It's an office he knows well, having spent 20 years going in and out of meetings here for a variety of reasons.

And he's always late. And they always know it. So he's not nearly as panicked as Paula.

"Paula, I turned in my first quarter of the book last week...calm down..."

She stops him outside of the conference room and he can see Gina and her team lining one side of the table and Castle's lawyer and two empty chairs on the other side.

"Yea well, they hate the book...so...we're screwed..."

Before he can respond, she swings the door open and drags him inside.

They hate the book?

That's impossible.

It's not...his best work. Or really, even close.

But it's still better than most of the dribble for sale in the Murder Mystery section.

"How nice of you to grace us with your presence Rick...I'm actually surprised you showed up at all, given your recent track record, so let's just get down to business..."

He grits his teeth and sighs. So it's going to be this kind of meeting.

Ever since he stopped producing, Gina has tried every tactic possible. And for a while, she tried to kill him with kindness. He liked those meetings the best. But now it seems she's back to her cut throat ways and he simply doesn't have the energy to deal with it.

"Rick this isn't even worth going over because this is the 20th meeting we've had about your breach of contract...20th...I had someone check...so you're well aware of your obligations...and THIS...doesn't meet your obligations..."

She tosses a thick stack of paper on the table and he recognizes the opening page. It's his 75 pages of new work. He didn't even have a title. He figured some Black Pawn intern could come up with something.

"Gina, you asked me to write. And I did. That's a quarter of the book and I'm working on the rest of it..."

She sighs, leaning back in her chair and slams down the familiar contract that is waved in his face constantly these days.

"TWO NIKKI HEAT BOOKS...That's what your contract says...I can't have our best selling author stop his number one selling series with two books left and then publish...THIS excuse for fiction? The critics will pan you! You won't be able to bounce back. You need to finish the series..."

He looks at Paula and his lawyer, both of whom he would like to fire right now for their annoying silence.

"Wait...you said two books...you never said two Nikki Heat books...Nikki is...she doesn't exist anymore...she's done..."

Gina knows most of the story, she became so concerned about him after the first few months that she found Martha and she told her everything. She was sympathetic for awhile but that's long past.

"You've got to be kidding me...20 meetings Rick and you think this is the first time I've mentioned you need to produce 2 Nikki Heat books?...You're the one who playing kept semantics and saying 2 books...we never agreed to it..."

She is pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration and anger and his lawyer nods at him. Weasel.

"You created the character...the story...it's all in your head...we offered you counseling or creative consulting to help you find the next steps if needed...I don't care if you take these 75 pages and turn...Amber...into Nikki...I need to publish a Nikki Heat book by next summer...I want 75 pages of Nikki submitted by the first of the month or we're filing the papers in federal court Rick..."

It would bankrupt him.

His initial reaction was always to just let them sue him.

Until his lawyer said the contract is worth so much that it would drain him dry. And then some.

He doesn't have a response. He's out of excuses and stall tactics and now, alternatives.

"Gina...please...you know that I can't write her...please..."

He's not above begging.

"I'm sorry Rick...you created her...and no matter what other circumstances exist around her...you need to finish what you started.."

She offers him the weakest smile possible and in unison, they gather their belongings and exit the conference room.

He stares at the light wood of the conference table, the skyline looming through the board room windows.

"Rick, I'm sending my bill to your accountant for the rest of the year...I need paid before..."

Paula doesn't finish her thought, just squeezes his shoulder and slips out of the conference room with his stupid lawyer following behind.

So this is how it ends.

It always seemed too good to be true. Some punk kid who had an affinity for the macabre making it as a multi-million dollar author?

He spent the first years of his career just waiting for it to crumble. For someone to tell him the joke is on him.

It took longer than he thought for the rug to be pulled out from under him but it finally happened.

And it's all her fault.

* * *

She hates her job. She really doesn't even understand the point of it most of the time.

A few days a week she's called into a beige conference room and her job is to tell the tactical team where she thinks they will find fugitive criminals based on their past record

She doesn't get to go out with them, she just studies their file, puts together pieces in her head and throws out a best guess. And she's usually right.

But it's boring. Not much of a challenge.

And it leaves her with at least 3 or 4 other days to fill with mundane tasks. She feels like a 30 something retiree.

Which is why she's staring at paint swatches in the den, on a Wednesday afternoon.

Five colors of tan, all of them look perfectly fine but it's something to do so she puts way more thought and concentration into the task than is really needed.

She eliminates Oyster Bay Beige first. Too pale.

She's contemplating if Basket Weave Taupe is too buttery for the floors when a loud knock saves her from burning off any more brain cells.

Probably the floor guys to finish up the living room.

She wipes her dust covered hands on her work jeans, having removed window treatments from the Den and Office earlier.

Before she can swing the door open there's another loud pound and she is ready to go off on the workers for lack of patience when they are the ones that are 15 minutes late.

"Seriously..."

Her rant is stopped mid-word when she finds Castle on the other side of the door. Bouncing back and forth of his feet, energy practically radiating off of him.

"Cas-..."

Before she can question him or even process how she feels about him being there, he blazes past her into the foyer, pacing frantically.

"You know what I don't get...for 4 years, I followed you around like a puppy...if you said jump, I jumped...I did everything right!...so why...all this time later...am I the one dealing with my entire life coming apart at the seams!? While you are building your dream house and are perfectly happy!"

His voice is barely above a yell, more frantic than loud, his hands gesturing wildly in the air.

She's struggling to follow him, just watching him pacing back and forth, running his hand through his messed hair every so often.

"Castle...what are you talking about?"

He laughs, bracing his hands on his knees, double over in laughter.

Is he drunk?

She stands wide eyed watching him. Completely confused.

"The best part is...I thought you were going to save me! I spent so many hours thinking...oh this one...she's going to be my life raft...and now...i'm in the water, can't catch my breath and it turns out, YOU'RE THE ANVIL THEY THROW ME!"

If it was anyone but Castle, she'd already have called the police or went after her gun. He honestly seems a little unhinged.

"Castle...calm down...what in the hell are you talking about?"

She steps towards him and he steps immediately away. Almost like she has a force field around her that repels him further as she gets closer.

"Nikki fucking Heat...that's what I'm talking about. You just ran off and hid yourself away, like you always do. Leaving the rest of us to figure it out for ourselves..."

He's stopped pacing, locking his feet to the ground and challenging her with angry eyes and furrowed brow.

"I needed TIME...I needed space..."

She can feel the anger boiling back up in her chest. She hasn't felt it for so long. That burning, caustic emotion that eats away at her, stings her eyes. She has felt nothing at all for so long that the flood of it back into her body is almost exhilarating.

He looks so tired. He looks as tired as she feels. His hands now hung to the side of him, his hair falling into his forehead. The top few buttons of his dress shirt open, his suit coat a size too big on him.

"Castle...why in the hell are you here...you said it yourself...this is needless torture..."

He clenches his jaw and shifts his eyes off of her, to the ground and back up again. Catching the breath in her throat with his vulnerability.

"Because I can't write..."

It takes all of her power not to open her arms and wrap him up in them. She hates him and wants to shove him and at the same time, whatever pain he is so obviously feeling, she wants to take it away because she's the cause of it.

"And you think I can help?"

It's not even worth questioning the sanity of offering herself up to him. It comes from instinct. She doesn't even have time to consider the consequences of her offer.

"I don't know...all I know is that two and half years ago I couldn't stop writing...then you went away and I stopped...and now...I need to start again..."

She nods, chewing of her lip, almost to the point of feeling blood.

"I don't work cases anymore...I could...I could tell you a little about what I do but...it's..."

He shakes his head and sighs.

"I don't need a case...I can write a thousand mysteries...I need Nikki...I need inspiration...I need all of this junk that is filling up my head to just go away..."

Just as she's about to step closer, reach out to connect with him in some way, she hears the door behind her creak open slightly, pressing against her body.

"Senorita? Sorry we are late..."

She doesn't take her eyes off Castle, fearful that if she does, he'll vanish. She steps to the side and lets the workers slip past her, carrying in their tools and belongings.

"Tomorrow. 9am. Remys."

Castle clears his throat and is very matter of fact, pushing past her and the workers, crossing the threshold back onto the porch. He doesn't look back up at her, staring down at his shoes and speaking quietly.

"You put this junk in my head...so I need you to get it out..."

She can't find the courage to do anything but nod and whisper, "_Ok_". As he takes the steps two at a time and disappears down the sidewalk.  
_


End file.
